was about to retreat quickly from the shop, when the old man looked up, and said, in a peevish voice:—
"How many watches do you want?"—and Davy saw that he was a very shocking-looking person, with wild, staring eyes, and with a skin as dark as mahogany, as if he had been soaked in something for ever so long.
"How many?" repeated the old man, impatiently.
"If you please," said Davy, "I don't think I'll take any watches to-day. I'll call"—
"Drat 'em!" interrupted the old man, angrily beating the watches with his ladle; "I'll never get rid of em—never!"
"It seems to me"—began Davy, soothingly.
"Of course it does!" again interrupted the old man, as crossly as before. "Of course it does! That's because you won't listen to the why of it."
"But I will listen," said Davy.
"Then sit down on the floor and hold up your ears," said the old man.
Davy did as he was told to do, so far as sitting down on the floor was concerned, and the old man pulled a paper out of one of his boots, and, glaring at Davy over the top of it, said, angrily:—